The Flames of Change
by Lovel
Summary: After the mess at the Department of Mysteries, Harry Potter was just trying to come to terms with his Godfather’s death. It all started with an ‘innocent’ wish… Honestly, he hadn’t meant to set the ceiling on fire, it just sort of happened. R&R Please.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: The Flame of Change

**Summary**: After the mess at the Department of Mysteries, Harry Potter was just trying to come to terms with his Godfather's death. It all started with an 'innocent' wish… Honestly, he hadn't _meant_ to set the ceiling on fire, it just sort of happened. Join Harry for his 6th year… It's gonna be a doozy.

**Warnings for this Chapter**: Nothing but a bit of naughty language.

-----/-----

Harry Potter was currently staring at a wall, willing it to catch fire. Thus far, the Boy-Who-Lived-to-be-a-Pain-in-the-Ass-to-Evil-Wizards-and-to-Overuse-Dashes had been unsuccessful with his wishful arson. As much as he would like to burn Number 4, Privit Drive to the ground with the Dursleys still in it and dance in its ashes, he had nowhere else to go. It was here or…

No, despite Harry's loathing of all things Dursley, he would prefer to be here than at the so-called home of his late godfather. Better here than Grimmauld Place. Better to stay here than to face the memories that that house held.

Sirius. He was dead. _Dead_. Never coming back. All Harry's fault. There was no denying it.

But Harry had accepted that fact, as best he could. He would live for Sirius as well, now, and he would not make such a grievous mistake again. Still… Grimmauld Place was best avoided for now.

Harry snorted. He didn't have much of a choice of living quarters anyways. Dumbledore would not allow him to stay elsewhere.

In the corner, Hedwig ruffled her feathers softly, shifting on her perch. The threats from Moody and the others at the train station had _convinced_ Harry's uncle to allow the owl out of its cage, and Uncle Vernon had even gone so far as to allow Harry the use of his school books. That was as far as the threat had got him, though. His wand had been locked in the cupboard under the stairs, despite his protests. Vernon Dursley and his family had decided that ignoring him was the best route to take, only speaking to him to remind him about the obligatory letter every three days. In some ways, it was for the best, Harry didn't want any of the cruel comments this year, but the absence of talking had left far too much time for thinking morbid thoughts and for stewing in self-pity and hate. He was doing his best to avoid that path, but the lack of things to do was making it difficult.

His letters to the order were always long, practically begging for news; not just about Voldemort, but about everyone else as well, be it friends or order members. Harry hated feeling so needy, but he longed for _some_ contact. Obligingly, Ron and Hermione had owled him, Hermione fretting over having not received her OWL results yet, Ron complaining about the Chudley Cannons' latest loss. Even Neville, Luna, and Ginny had written to him, for which Harry was grateful. Their letters had assured him that they held no grudges about their latest "adventure." _I'm not sure _I_ would've written someone who had dragged me into a fiasco like the one that happened at the Department of Mysteries. Thank goodness the Order showed up. I could forgive me for getting _myself_ killed but if the others had been killed because of my actions… I couldn't take more than one death right now. I don't need any more blood on my hands._

Harry groaned and brought his hand up, running it through his messy black hair. It was definitely time for sleep if he was grinding down into that self-pitying, depressive rut again. Best to get some rest. Harry lay down flat on his bed, directing those arson-wishing eyes to the ceiling, before closing them. He tried for sleep for a bit, then gave up and returned to his glaring. Insomnia was a real bitch.

In a few hours Aunt Petunia would be coming in to awaken him, and he had little chance of getting _any_ sleep by then. Then he would be making breakfast, doing some chores, making lunch, doing some more chores, and eating dinner. Just because they had been threatened by a scary man with a rolling eye didn't mean the Dursley's would lay off on the chores. Frustrated, he glared even harder, hoping that the ceiling _would_ catch fire, and damn the consequences. He was so _sick_ of this bare-walled, white room, so _sick_ of his family.

A small flame suddenly appeared with an odd muted crack and began burning away the spider's web that Harry had been meaning to clear away for a week now. He watched it for a moment, fascinated as it spread to the ceiling, before having a revelation.

_My ceiling is on fire! Oh, shit!_

Harry shot off the bed, looking wildly around for water to put the flame out. He was always very tidy, Aunt Petunia demanded utmost perfection in that detail, and so there was not a glass of water or conveniently located fire extinguisher to be seen.

_Oh shit oh shit oh shit...!_

The small flame had grown with the new fuel and had spread slightly. Panicking, Harry grabbed his ratty blanket and flailed it towards the fire. Missing the ceiling by several inches, Harry was sharply reminded why he hated being short. He hurriedly jumped onto the bed and swatted at the ceiling once more.

Two things happened at once.

First, his blanket caught fire. Harry threw it to the ground and stomped on it, heedless of the fact that he was in his bare feet and the fact that he was just down the hall from his volatile relatives.

Second, Hedwig awoke from her perch and, seeing the flames, panicked as well. She flew crazily about the room, avoiding the flames and the wildly flailing Harry, hooting anxiously. However, Hedwig _was_ uncannily smart for an owl, and she quickly came up with a strategy. She swooped for her water dish, clutched it in her claws, and flew towards the blaze, spilling some of the water on the floor and some on Harry but making it to the fire with about two thirds left. Somehow managing to hurl the water at the burning ceiling, Hedwig turned to the side and landed on the windowsill. The dish clattered noisily to the floor and she let out a hoot that sounded oddly like a sigh of relief.

The snores that were always heard at night in Number 4, ceased suddenly. They were soon replaced by a confused murmur. Which very rapidly turned into a yell.

Harry stopped his stamping on the ragged and soggy blanket in favor of listening to the bellow that echoed through the house. It was his uncle, he knew, and a prickle of dread reminded Harry why he used to fear him. Harry looked hopelessly about the room.

There was smoke everywhere and a small hole in his ceiling that Harry could see the attic through. _Good thing it didn't get up there… It would've lit up like a tinderbox._ His blanket was burned and ripped beyond repair. There was water on the floor, too, and Harry would bet ten galleons that he looked like a bedraggled waif. His hair was plastered to his head, he was covered in sweat, his feet were covered in soot, and, now that the adrenaline was wearing off, he was becoming rapidly aware that he had just tried to put out a fire with his feet.

Harry had to think fast. He wanted to send a note to the Order, but Vernon would be there any second; there wasn't enough time, damn it! Limping over to the window anyways, Harry opened it. "Hedwig, get out of here, ok?" Hedwig hooted worriedly, and stared at her master with golden eyes. Seeing something in those green eyes, she hooted balefully and launched from the window. Harry watched as she glided gracefully away until he could no longer see her white form in the darkness.

Harry sighed in relief. Vernon wasn't above threatening Hedwig when he was angry, and, Merlin, was he going to be angry.

Loud footsteps sounded down the hall. Harry turned from the window, swallowing hard.

-----/-----

Um, this is my first attempt at writing fanfiction, so please be nice. Comments or suggestions are welcomed, but please don't flame me. Ideas would be especially welcomed. Please review!

Thanks-

Lovel


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: The Flames of Change

**Summary**: After the mess at the Department of Mysteries, Harry Potter was just trying to come to terms with his Godfather's death. It all started with an 'innocent' wish… Honestly, he hadn't _meant_ to set the ceiling on fire, it just sort of happened. Join Harry for his 6th year… It's gonna be a doozy.

**Warnings for this Chapter**: Child abuse and probably some language.

**Disclaimer**: I forgot last time, oops. Harry Potter is not, and will never be, mine. I own naught but some pocket lint and a feeble little laptop.

**A/N: **Sorry about the delay. I had a lot of homework last weekend so I couldn't write. Sorry! So, off of that subject… Did anyone see the new Harry Potter movie? What'd you think? XD It was the best movie I've seen for a while. A bit choppy at first, but still good. :)

Thanks to **Tasha Teh Fox** _(I got faved? Thanks! Hope you like the chapter!),_ **Hot-Salsa** _(Hahaha, I'm glad you liked the cliffy. Hope this chapter meets your expectations.)_, and **the posessed one** _(Well, you get some of that stuff in this chapter here, hope you like it. To tell you the truth, I've got only a vague outline as to where this is going, but there are some new powers too. Enjoy the chapter!)_ for their lovely reviews.

Now! Onwards!

-----/-----

Last Time:

_Harry sighed in relief. Vernon wasn't above threatening Hedwig when he was angry, and, Merlin, was he going to be angry. _

_Loud footsteps sounded down the hall. Harry turned from the window, swallowing hard. _

-----/-----

The door slammed open and the light flicked on. Uncle Vernon stepped in, looking livid. He stopped for a moment, paling, at the sight of Harry's room. Vernon's gaze traveled from the mangled blanket to the scorched ceiling and finally to Harry Potter himself. Faster then Harry would have believed possible, Vernon's face changed from pallid white to an odd sort of puce color. The man began to shake violently, and Harry had a nasty little feeling that Uncle Vernon wasn't shaking with cold but with something more along the line with rage.

Were he not standing with his back nearly touching the windowsill, Harry would have backed away. Hell, he would have jumped out the window if he wasn't on the second floor and in danger of breaking both his legs on impact with the ground. As it was, Harry could only gaze at his uncle with a nervous look and edge to the side. Falling out an open window from the second floor to lay in agony on the front lawn until someone remembered he existed was not an attractive option.

At Harry's movement, something in Uncle Vernon seemed to snap. With a heated roar, the man rushed forward and seized Harry's collar, slamming him into the wall. "What did you _do, _freak!"

Harry grappled with the hands desperately. "I didn't mean to! I-It was an accident!"

At Harry's words, Vernon seemed even more infuriated. He shook Harry, rattling his head against the wall painfully. "So, boy, _accidentally_ set the ceiling on fire, have we?" Uncle Vernon ground out, sounding more enraged than Harry could ever remember him sounding.

Well, even Harry had to admit; accidentally setting the ceiling on fire _did_ seem a bit far fetched.

After one last painful jerk, Vernon released Harry, and stepped back, closing his eyes and breathing deeply as though trying to calm himself, undoubtedly worried about what the freaks would say if they found their savior beaten to a bloody pulp. It didn't appear to be working, as his face had only darkened in its color.

Surprised and wary at his release, Harry eyed Vernon, and tried to skirt around him. He needed to hide until his uncle had _really_ calmed down. There! He'd done it!He was almost to the door now… Almost there…

A cracking sound made him pause.

With a crash, something fell to the floor. Harry's back stiffened at the sound, and he turned to see what had caused the noise. He could have groaned with frustration. A fair sized piece of the ceiling had fallen, charred and blackened, to the floor.

Harry's uncle didn't take kindly to this. Harry, staring at the piece of ceiling with a kind of horrified fascination, missed his uncle's approach. Amazing, as Vernon didn't exactly take light steps.

Harry did, however, notice when a hand came flying out of nowhere, slapping him hard across the face and knocking him to the ground. He looked up, stunned at this new development, and put a hand to his cheek.

Uncle Vernon had given up the 'calming' techniques. He stood over Harry, breathing harshly. "LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE! TRY TO BURN DOWN THIS HOUSE, WILL YOU! USING YOUR FREAKISHNESS TO TRY TO HARM THIS FAMILY!" If the circumstances had been different, Harry might have protested that he had never tried to hurt anyone. Well, except for Malfoy… and Bellatrix… and, of course, there was that time with Sirius in third year… Okay, maybe the whole "never tried to hurt anyone" thing wasn't really true. But the point was that _Harry_ was the one on the floor nursing a rapidly reddening cheek, not any of the Dursley's.

Vernon's foot lashing out to connect with his stomach caught him off guard. Harry curled, gasping and holding his hands to his stomach in an attempt to ease the pain. The foot again struck him, this time in the leg, and Harry cried out at the pain, unrolling from his ball. The kicks began coming at a more rapid pace, hitting his head and chest.

Harry tried to shield his head with his arms, and was generally succeeding, though he had undoubtedly gained numerous bruises. One particularly forceful kick came at his arm and Harry heard a terrible snap. Instantly, Harry felt dizzy. He felt like he was falling… an odd feeling to have when one is lying on the floor. Vertigo, his mind absently supplied, this was called vertigo. He vaguely wondered where he had picked that word up. Probably from Hermione.

The beating continued. He cradled his broken arm to himself, inadvertently leaving himself defenseless. Kicks rained in. Harry couldn't move.

His head was swimming. He could barely even feel the pain anymore. The room was sweltering hot… or was that him? He felt some part of himself floating away…

Unconsciousness took him.

-/-

Though he had noticed the boy was no longer conscious, Vernon hadn't let up on the beating.

Vernon's mind was focused solely on all the times the brat had wronged him and his family. Those moments played behind his eyes like a movie reel, over and over; showing all the reasons the boy deserved this. Vernon was almost enjoying himself. He'd been waiting to do this for a long time.

Not even the threats of those freaks could deter him. Threaten Vernon Dursley, will they? He'd show them he didn't take kindly to threats.

So immersed in the 'punishment' was he, that he didn't even notice the temperature change. The room was blistering hot now. Vernon paused, wheezing, to wipe the sweat from his brow.

-/-

Down the hall, a sleepy Petunia peeked out the door. Hearing the noises from her nephew's room, she crept out into the hallway. She paused at Dudley's door and opened it. The large boy lay on the bed, snoring softly. Petunia was relieved that her sweet boy hadn't been awakened by the fuss happening in Harry's room. Dudley was a growing boy, after all; he needed his rest. She closed the door quietly.

She continued to Harry's door. It stood ajar, and she noticed how hot the hallway was getting. She flicked on the hallway light, and gasped. Petunia could _see_ the heat waves coming from the boy's room. She called to Vernon nervously.

Her husband answered snappishly, "What is it?" After a few moments, Vernon stepped through the doorway. "Well?" He closed the door behind himself.

Vernon was very red and soaked in sweat. Petunia wasted no time. "The boy is doing something, Vernon!"

He looked confused. The boy was unconscious; he shouldn't be able to move! "Impossible." Petunia mouthed the hated word. _Magic_. So that was it.

Vernon turned angrily to the door, intending to dish out some more pain to the little bastard. He put his hand to the doorknob before yelling and pulling his hand away. He stepped back and examined the knob. It was red hot! The boy _was_ doing magic.

Fearfully, Vernon pulled Petunia away and back to their bedroom. He'd deal with the boy later.

-/-

Hedwig shifted anxiously on the perch intended for delivery owls. Dumbledore received many owls, and occasionally they were instructed to wait for a response. Thus the perch.

Fawkes, noticing the owl's agitation, let out a reassuring trill. Hedwig hooted gratefully and tried to relax.

When she had flown in earlier, distressed, Dumbledore had been baffled. He had wasted precious time trying to calm her, instead of immediately sending someone off to check on her human as she had intended for him to do. After several minutes of chaos, he had finally seemed to get the message.

He had done the fire thing that wizards do, calling for a Remus Lupin. Soon after, a man with grey streaked hair had emerged from the fireplace, and Hedwig was relieved to see it was the man her human had seemed so fond of. The one with eyes like a wolf.

"Good evening, Headmaster. You wanted to speak with me?" The man stood awkwardly in front of the fireplace, clasping his hands together as though nervous.

Dumbledore conjured two armchairs, sitting in the nearest one and motioning for the man- _Remus is his name, _Hedwig remembered - to take the other. "Yes, thank you for coming. Please, call me Albus, you're no longer a student here." Dumbledore chastised gently. "Would you care for a lemon drop?" The headmaster offered a tin of the candies, his eyes twinkling. Hedwig resisted the urge to hoot irritably. Would they get _on_ with it?

Remus reddened. "No thank you… Albus." Dumbledore shrugged and popped one into his mouth. Remus fidgeted a bit before asking, "So what did you call me here for?" _Finally, someone with enough sense to get straight to the point!_ Hedwig thought approvingly.

"I need your opinion on something." Dumbledore motioned to the snowy owl. Hedwig took the invitation and flew over to Remus, landing on his shoulder.

"Hedwig?" Remus looked confused. "But Harry wrote us yesterday…" He brought his hand up and scratched her head lightly. Hedwig lowered her head, enjoying the attention.

Dumbledore folded his hands together. "Yes. Hedwig showed up about ten minutes ago. She had no letter and appeared to be greatly distressed."

Remus interrupted. "You think something is wrong with Harry?" Hedwig hooted affirmatively. This man was quick! Unlike some other wizards she could name.

"I am not certain."

"Surely this necessitates some attention!" Remus was agitated and had stopped with the petting. Hedwig could have sighed at the loss.

Dumbledore was infuriatingly calm. "Of course. I shall send someone over in the morning."

"The morning?" Remus asked, horrified. "What if something really is wrong with him?"

"I don't believe Harry's relatives would appreciate someone barging in at this time of the morning for a false alarm."

Hedwig was offended. Her, send a _false alarm_?

Evidently Remus agreed with her. "Hedwig has never done something like this before. She wouldn't fly all the way here over nothing. Please, sir, let me go over and check on Harry!"

Dumbledore held up a hand, stilling further protests. "Remus, I understand you're concerned for the boy. Not to worry. I will send someone over tomorrow. I'll inform you of what happens. For now, I think you should head home…" This man was hopeless! Hedwig decided it was time to leave. She could do no more here.

"You know I hate that house, Albus…" Remus was saying. Hedwig launched from his shoulder, startling him. "Hedwig!" She flew to the high window used by owls, hooting a farewell to Fawkes.

She needed to check on her human. The bad feeling that had sent her out to get help now was now urging her to return.

-----/-----

So… How'd you like it? A bit longer than last time, but don't expect it to always be so. Next chapter might take a bit longer to get out, because all of my teachers have coordinated their essay assignments to be due a the same time. ;) Hopefully the next chapter'll be out in two or three weeks.

_/blinks/_ Wow, there were a lot of Point of View changes in this chapter. Did they work out alright?

Please tell me what you think! Flames will be used to warm my feet.

I hope that everyone in the US had a happy thanksgiving and that those of you elsewhere had a lovely day!

Thanks!

. Lovel


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: The Flames of Change

**Summary**: After the mess at the Department of Mysteries, Harry Potter was just trying to come to terms with his Godfather's death. It all started with an 'innocent' wish… Honestly, he hadn't _meant_ to set the ceiling on fire, it just sort of happened. Join Harry for his 6th year… It's gonna be a doozy.

**Warnings for this Chapter**: Uh… aftermath of abuse and, as always, the threat of naughty language.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter. Sue me, and you shall get a total of six pennies and a bit of string.

**A/N:** I bumped the rating up, just in case. It's now T.

I know I said two or three weeks, but I had honestly thoughtI could do it in two. So much for that, huh? There's an explanationat the bottom as to why it took me longer.

Thanks to **Hot-Salsa** _(Thanks for the vote of confidence! Have I mentioned how cool I think your penname is?_ _Sorry, I'm a dorky New Mexican who loves all things salsa. _XD_ Thanks for reviewing, I hope this chapter was worth waiting for!)_, **The Female Nerd** _(Hahaha! Yeah, it would be very awkward. Erm… well, I checked the front of HBP and didn't see any mention of the Order guarding Harry. So… ehehehe… we'll just assume that Dumbledore is _completely_ comfortable with the letter system to keep Harry safe. Or maybe he's giving Harry some freedom. Thanks for reviewing, enjoy the chapter!)_, and **hey** _(Hahaha… I wouldn't say he's an idiot… He's just a bit dense sometimes. Thanks for the review!). _You guys are awesome.

So, erm, I'm not British, so please, _please_, tell me if I've made a mistake with the usage of any British words. Much obliged.

And onward we go…

------/-----

Last time:

_Dumbledore held up a hand, stilling further protests. "Remus, I understand you're concerned for the boy. Not to worry. I will send someone over tomorrow. I'll inform you of what happens. For now, I think you should head home…" This man was hopeless! Hedwig decided it was time to leave. She could do no more here. _

"_You know I hate that house, Albus…" Remus was saying. Hedwig launched from his shoulder, startling him. "Hedwig!" She flew to the high window used by owls, hooting a farewell to Fawkes. _

_She needed to check on her human. The bad feeling that had sent her out to get help now was urging her to return. _

-----/-----

Hedwig flew swiftly towards Little Whinging, the beautiful white owl the only thing visible in the warm night. She had been flying for hours, but she was nearing her destination now so she didn't- _couldn't_- stop. Her human was in trouble. He needed her.

Hedwig knew she was quite fast when compared to other owls. Other… less gifted owls. Like that little heathen Pig. He aught to take his duty more seriously! His wizard counted on him to deliver letters, and he just treated it like a joke! Not like _her_. Hedwig hooted proudly before giving herself a little shake. She needed to focus. Harry was in trouble, and here she was, flattering herself! Disgraceful. Hedwig flapped her wings a bit harder, gaining in speed.

She had never flown as fast as she was going now. As a result, Hedwig arrived at the town in record time. The sun was peeking from behind the houses, just beginning to rise, and was shedding its morning light across Privit Drive.

She spotted her human's window easily. There was a bit of light smoke wafting lazily out the window._ Strange… Surely the smoke from that fire wouldn't have lingered this long? _Hedwig wheeled down towards the window, landing on the sill and peering inside. The room was lit with a dim glow, but Hedwig wasn't too worried about it. She did belong to a wizard, after all. Things like that were in the job description. Harry was surely its source, so she glanced around for her human.

She looked first to the bed, expecting her human to be lying on it, either reading or brooding as he often did instead of sleeping like a _regular_ human. Hedwig disapproved of Harry's sleeping pattern, but her human often muttered about his 'damnable insomnia,' and she supposed that was the reason he seldom slept. Even if she didn't know what this 'damnable insomnia' entailed.

The wizard was not on the bed.

Her perch was still standing, so Hedwig flew to it. She hooted confusedly, clenching the perch tightly between her talons. The room was warmer than usual. Hedwig thought it was rather reminiscent of the Gryffindor common room, which always had a lovely fire going to keep the tower warm. Much better than the drafty owlery.

Thoughts of fire led her to remember the smoke. She looked up, and, seeing the thin smoke at the ceiling, Hedwig searched out its source. She let out an undignified squawk when she noticed her human's figure in the corner near the door. Or rather, when she noticed the flames dancing over his still form.

Hedwig fluttered to the floor and approached Harry carefully, maneuvering around the charred blanket and… was that a piece of _ceiling_? _When did _that_ come down?_ She shook herself a bit, trying to pay attention to the task at hand. As she neared, the flames flared up, flickering wildly. For a moment, they seemed to observe her, as though they were assessing her trustworthiness. No, no, no! They weren't _analyzing_ her; that was just silly. _No need to be paranoid_.

Small tendrils of fire stretched towards her. She eyed them uncertainly, wondering if she really should be tempting fate like this. Soon the decision was taken out of her hands. They jumped forward suddenly, surrounding her in a ring of fire. Hedwig, instead of burning to a crisp as expected, merely felt warm… and oddly secure.

The flames gave off the feeling that Hedwig associated with Harry, her wizard. It was the feeling that he was happy to see her and grateful for her company. Was this _Harry's_ doing? She was amazed at the thought. _A wizard who can control fire…? I've never heard of anyone able to do that…_

The flames abruptly took on a blue tinge and were suddenly much less warm and inviting. Hedwig was startled at the change. They jerked away from her, withdrawing back to the wizard, chaotic in their movements.

With a drawn out hiss, the flames flickered and slowly shrunk, giving Hedwig her first real glimpse of her human.

-/-

_He floated in a warm place. A protected place. He was surrounded by darkness, but it wasn't a threatening darkness. Just peaceful._

_Then… a presence. It felt familiar and safe. He reached for it, as a child reaches for a mother's welcoming embrace. _

_The presence was uneasy, he could sense, so he decided to share the comfort he felt. He stretched out a hand and touched it, heat flooding from his fingertips into the presence. _

_He felt its pleasure and awe… He smiled emphatically; he was happy too._

_This place was good. Nice. He would be sad when he left._

_Wait… Leave?_

_Leave for where? For what? Why did he have to leave…? _

_He tried to remember... Dim memories of a barking laugh and a smiling face… and something else… _

_An obligation? _

_That's right…_

_His responsibility. To live for Sirius. For everyone…_

_He felt the comfort leave him. And with it, the warmth_.

_He was so cold… But he could remember, and that was all that mattered._

-/-

Hedwig cooed anxiously over her human's huddled form. His body was sprawled on its side, against the wall. Vivid bruises stood out starkly against his pale skin. They were everywhere: on his arms, his face… Harry's baggy shirt prevented her from seeing his chest, but she would bet a whole bag of owl treats that it was black and blue as well.

She stepped closer, trying to determine the full extent of his injuries. His head lay in a small puddle of blood. Hedwig brought her large eyes nearer to his face, attempting to find its source. There. It was a cut on Harry's cheek, small but bleeding sluggishly. Hedwig could have sighed with relief. It wasn't serious.

She turned to look at the rest of Harry's body again. One of his arms was swollen and heavily bruised. _Poor dear…That's going to hurt. _Hedwig made a sympathetic noise and turned back to the boy's head, preening his hair gently, in the way Hedwig's mother had done to comfort _her_ when she was small.

Her human stirred a bit before letting out a quiet groan. Hedwig paused in preening and hooted softly, trying to encourage the boy to awaken.

-/-

Harry swam slowly into consciousness, fighting against the tide of darkness that was threatening to overwhelm him. Finally, he broke through the surface… And suddenly wished he had stayed unconscious.

Pain was everywhere. His head, his legs, his chest… He whimpered quietly, keeping his eyes shut tight, as though that would hold off any hurt. A quiet sound reached through the pain. Harry opened his eyes, keeping them slitted against the light. Even if said light was admittedly dim.

Everything was blurry. Where were his glasses…? _Must have fallen off when he hit me the first time. Brilliant. _

A white mass suddenly engulfed his vision. It was Hedwig. Well, probably. He couldn't really _see_ what it was, but he didn't have any other white things that could move around, or fly, or hoot, or deliver mail. He blinked several times, trying to force himself to pay attention. _Focus, Harry. Focus... _The boy mentally groaned._ ...Focus is _so_ underrated._

Harry opened his mouth to speak. "Hed…wig…?" His voice was distressingly raspy. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Hedwig?" Much better.

Harry tried to sit up and nearly passed out again. _Agh… Bloody hell, that hurt!_ Trying again, slower this time, Harry managed to make it into a sitting position. He leaned against the wall, panting softly. _Truly pathetic, Potter; you can't even sit up without exhausting yourself, _whispered a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Snape.

Harry resisted the urge to laugh. He just couldn't live without those snide little remarks, could he? No Snape around? No problem! A little bubble of laughter escaped him. Harry hoped it didn't sound hysterical.

Hedwig hooted concernedly, obviously thinking he'd been too long without saying something to her. _Or maybe she thinks I belong in the loony bin._ Harry let out another giggle and tried to reach out a hand to comfort her, but stopped when he realized one of his arms was oddly numb. Harry looked down, concerned at the lack of feeling.

His left arm was swollen terribly, and bruised besides. Harry stared at it for a moment, swallowing the urge to vomit. That was most certainly _not _normal. He swallowed again and looked around; trying to ignore the tingling feeling that had started in the afflicted arm.

Harry looked blearily around at his out of focus bedroom, trying to decide what to do. _Well, first thing's first. _"Hedwig?" An answering hoot. "Do you think you could find my glasses?"

The fuzzy white mass that was his owl hopped away. Harry hoped that she was looking for them. It was a couple of moments before Hedwig made a triumphant sound and returned to him, pushing something into his palm. "Thanks," muttered Harry gratefully. He brought the glasses shakily up to his face, slipping them on and looking around.

The sun was rising, bathing his room in the morning light.

His room seemed even messier than it had the night before. With the growing light of dawn, Harry could see that the smoke had left a greasy layer of black soot on the ceiling. Combined with the hole… Well, it wasn't looking particularly presentable.

He shifted his attention to the floor. The blanket was still there, looking as pitiful and mangled as it had the night before. And there was the broken piece of plaster that was the fallen ceiling. Looking beside himself, he noticed a bit of blood where his head had been. Startled, Harry brought his hand up and felt around on his head until his hand met something sticky. Harry moved his hand away and examined his fingers. It was blood all right. He again brought his hand up to his face and gently probed for the cut.

Ah, there it was. On his cheek.

Harry sighed darkly and let his hand drop. _Hope it doesn't scar. I sure as Hell don't need _another_ one on my face._ He stared sightlessly at the ceiling, trying to absorb everything that had happened to him. A dull pain began to creep into his left arm, distracting him from his thoughts. He eyed it wearily and sighed again.

"So… Now what, Hedwig?" Harry said. Hedwig eyed him appraisingly for a moment before moving over to the door. She turned back to Harry, giving a quick hoot, and again looked to the door.

"Alright then. I assume you think I should get out of here." An affirmative hoot. Harry snorted wearily. "And do what? Shower?" Hedwig gave him an affronted glare. "Actually, a shower doesn't sound like such a bad idea…" Harry mused thoughtfully, looking at the blood on his fingers. "The Dursley's won't be up for a couple of hours yet, I'd have plenty of time."

Taking a deep breathe, Harry steeled himself. He stood slowly, bracing himself on the wall with his good arm. Once he was fully standing, Harry took a shaky breath and let his arm fall from the wall. He swayed a bit before regaining his balance and limping towards the door, one arm dangling uselessly at his side.

On the floor, Hedwig was doing a good impression of a mother hen, hooting anxiously and crowding his feet. After nearly stepping on her, Harry politely asked her to move. She hooted a bit sullenly, but obligingly flew up to land on his shoulder. Hedwig only gripped his shoulder lightly between her talons, which Harry was very thankful for. He didn't want talon injuries on top of everything else. He again braced himself on the wall; she seemed heavier than usual.

As he reached the door, Harry noticed that something was wrong with the door knob. It looked as if it had been heated at a high temperature. The metal in some places seemed to have liquefied and dripped down, making the knob look slightly uneven in its thickness. He blinked at it wearily, fleetingly wondering what had happened to it, before grabbing the knob. Harry spared it a brief thought, hoping that its apparent melting hadn't rendered the thing useless, before he turned the knob.

The door opened quietly and Harry stuck his head out of the room to make sure the hallway was clear. He didn't expect any of the Dursley's to be up at the crack of dawn, but he sure as hell didn't want to meet any of them when he was in this condition. It was clear. Stealthily as he could, Harry crept down the hallway. He heard naught but his relatives' snores, which was greatly comforting. Reaching the bathroom, he slipped inside and shut the door with a quiet click.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard no sudden yells of rage or stomping footsteps. Hopefully his relatives would _stay_ asleep while he took his shower_. If they hear the shower running though…_ With that unpleasant thought, Harry decided to forgo the shower. He motioned for the snowy owl to get off of his shoulder and wet a wash cloth with warm water instead. This simple task was far more difficult than he expected. …Then again, he wasn't reallycomfortable with using only one arm in everyday tasks.

After flicking on the light, Harry examined himself in the mirror briefly, holding the dripping cloth over the sink. He looked just as bad as he felt, with bruises scattered across his face and arms. The graze on his face had bled a lot, leaving a horizontal streak of blood across his cheek and into his hair. Harry grimaced. He wasn't going to be able to get that out without a shower.

_Vernon was kicking me... Which means that this is probably a scratch from his _toenail_. Ugh_. Harry made a face at the thought. _Would've been better off not thinking that. Urgh…_ Now he _really_had to get it clean.

Harry brought the wet cloth to his cheek, cleaning away the blood as best he could. That done, he turned his attention to his arm. In the light, he could clearly see that it was broken, not just bruised. He decided it was probably not a good idea to wash it. He didn't want to make it worse.

"What should I do, Hedwig?" Harry asked quietly, dropping the wash cloth into the sink with a wet smack. Hedwig merely cocked her head at him, obviously feeling he should make the decision. "I guess I should get out of here before everyone wakes up." He looked about himself, a bit doubtfully.

How would he get his wand? It was still locked in the cupboard downstairs.

"I'll stay nearby," he decided. "Then, if Uncle Vernon decides to burn my stuff, I'll be able to see the smoke." Harry laughed half-heartedly at his poor joke, sincerely hoping that his uncle _wouldn't_ actually think to burn his things. He opened the bathroom door anyways, in spite of his misgivings. Flicking the light off out of habit, Harry tottered down the hallway, feeling much more tired than he aught to. Hedwig flew ahead of him, down to the first floor.

The stairs seemed to be a lot longer than he remembered. Regardless, the Boy-Who-Lived doggedly descended, clutching at the railing with his good hand.

When he reached the bottom, Harry glanced at his cupboard door. He was a bit disappointed that it was still locked up, even though there wasn't any logical reason for it to have opened. Harry sighed and turned away, facing the front door with a sort of grim determination. Hedwig hooted encouragingly from the floor and followed Harry to the door.

Taking a deep breath, Harry opened the door and crossed the threshold, stepping out from the dark living room into the new light of dawn. Somehow, amazingly, he felt a weight lifted from his shoulders and he stood taller, able to ignore his injuries for the moment.

He was free, at least for a little while. Harry decided he was going to make good use of that time. He took a step and swayed suddenly, making his arm throb, and decided that a nap would be a good idea. He was exhausted.

A cloud drifted lazily over the sun, casting shadows over Privet Drive. Harry Potter stumbled to the sidewalk and down the street, following the retreating light.

-----/-----

Okay… that was kind of a weird ending to the chapter… It was written very late, and I suppose I thought I was being very profound. Hahaha. What'd you think of the chapter as a whole? It was a bit longer than the last one…

If you have questions about Harry's little spectacle with the fire, feel free to ask. I'll do my best to answer.

I had hoped to get Harry rescued by the end of this, but, alas, it was not meant to be. Next time for sure though.

I'm really sorry for the wait. Everything kind of tackled me at once… four essays, two books, frantic studying for the midterms, a test in tae kwon do, computer trouble… not to mention the death of my grandpa last Sunday. Very depressing, and the rest of my familyleft for Oklahoma for his funeral. I was left behind at a friend's house because of the upcoming midterms, which meant no computer and no working on this.

So… yeah. I'm sorry, but I hope you can understand.

Please review! Constructive criticism is lovely, as are comments, but please do not flame me.

Thanks,

-Lovel


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